Beer, brewing and poker, with possibly some inane drivel on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Monday, March 27, 2006

That's the funny thing in all of this; I'm not a puker. I rarely, if ever, puke from drinking too much. Throw me in a vehicle that decides it's necessary to move, well, then we have what happened to me on Saturday night.

I will forever be labled The Puker Blogger. Somebody--I think it was Jason-- said I should change the name of my blog to Pukeramarama. So not funny, man. Way to kick a man when he's already down on the ground (horking Mansion drinks, of course).

Right now, I'm sitting in our MGM deluxe hotel room, The Strip at my back. It's 9am. I'd probably be more inspired to write more facing the other way, but I'm to lazy to shift. So, I get to look at the black and white pictures of some hot actress that's more than likely long since dead, and some effeminate man with terrible eyebrows. Talk about inspiration. It's not easy to write about something of this magnitude, and I'm sure when I get done pouring out everything I know about the subject, I'll want to scrap it and start over. It's almost impossible to serve any sort of justice for an event like this.

Did it live up to my expectations? And then some, yes. The possibility that any of us will ever get invited back is so slight, not because of anyone's outrageous actions(though we did have to talk Al down from jumping into the pool, clothes and all, more than once), but face it, we're not "Playboy People". No offense to anyone, but we're not. And not that I think anyone of us in the group thinks otherwise, but I'm working on 5 hours of fitful sleep here; cut me some frickin slack, you jerks. But, despite(in spite?) all of that, I would go back immediately if asked, even if I was promised another day long hangover as a result.

The best thing about all the trip reports coming in, is that everybody did their own thing after our shuttle bus eeked through the Mansion arch and into the turnaround. We all hung out intermittently, but everybody had their own agenda for the night. Me, I wandered the party by myself a large portion of the night, just taking it all in. And it won't sink in for quite some time, really. It's just too much information to process. And because of that, my stories might take some time in coming. Normally when I come home from a WPBT event, I hate writing about it because there's always 35 accounts of the same, damn event, and making it interesting and funny to read is a lot of work. This, however, is different.

You must wait for the goods, which is exactly what I told Ava Fabian and Tiffany Taylor; the only two girls in bunny suits that night. They tittered like the innocent women they are, and we all got into a huge tickle fight right there, poolside.

Yeah, blatant lie. I didn't even know their names until Joe Speaker screamed them out and would not shut up about how many times he's wanked off to the former's boobies in the classic flick "Ski School". It would've been too much information, had we not been where we were.

Most memorable event on Saturday night: It wasn't getting to see Shannon Elizabeth in person, even though she is 10,000,000 times better looking in person. I know it doesn't seem possible, but it is. It also wasn't having Tara Reid walk 2 feet away from me, and not even realize that she was shit-faced until everyone else told me later. Hmmm...not so sure if I should be proud that I was more drunk than Tara Reid, or ashamed. Probably a little bit of both. It wasn't even that I was the only person to recognize Arnold Drummond's best friend, Dudley, who just happened to have not grown since Different Strokes.

No, my favorite point in the night is the conversation shared on the sloping front lawn of the Mansion as the party continued on in the back yard. I could've done that all night, really. Plus, I never would've been able to take the following picture had I been worried about missing something inside the poker tent.

Al passing out on the front steps of the Mansion

Oh yeah, we're all class.

So, until I get up bits of pieces of the night as I remember them, please check out the UHI Institute website. They were the event sponsor, and they made it possible for 8 shmucks like us to make all of you out there, very very jealous. And for that, I'm grateful.